Bound by the Past
by Kasca Black
Summary: Sevitus. The summer before Harry's Sixth Year will be a portent of the chaos to come as the war against Voldemort continues. Eventual HG and SSOC.Now AU, not HBP compliant.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: We do not nor will we ever own the magical world of Harry Potter. We can, however, mess with it a bit. Don't sue cos we're broke anyway.

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Bound by the Past 

Chapter One - The Whispers of a Secret

Harry Potter lay on his bed in Number four Privet Drive, staring at the ceiling. His eyes followed the almost invisible cracks and contours of the paint, the brush marks and the occasional dent reflecting the legacy of the room having once belonged to Dudley.

In the week since he had returned from Hogwarts Harry had felt an enormous range of emotions, guilt and anger being the most prominent. Right now Harry was in one of his depressed phases. Sirius was dead, Voldemort was back with a vengeance (literally) and he was the one expected to kill Voldemort and make everything alright again.

Fantastic.

To add insult to injury he was now back at the Dursley's.

On one hand Harry was actually glad they didn't know anything about Sirius's death and could not remind him of it. They, at least had no expectation except the conviction that he was going to make an even bigger nuisance of himself than last time.

On the other hand since Moody and Co's warning at King's Cross they were ignoring him religiously and Aunt Petunia had again taken to putting tins of cold soup through his cat flap. The door wasn't locked but he couldn't really see why he would want to inflict his company on the Dursley's so he only left his room to use the bathroom.

Harry knew that he was wallowing in a peculiar mix of self-pity, guilt and anger but at the moment he could not control what he was feeling which, he supposed, was apt since he couldn't control his life either. He laughed mirthlessly. His destiny was predetermined. Harry felt he was in one of those muggle cartoon coal trucks and he could see the "End of the Line" sign on the tracks in the distance. He just couldn't shake the feeling of panic and guilt every time he thought about anything to do with the magical world, even his friends.

They had stood beside him in the Department of Mysteries and he had led them into danger. Although they had only been apart a week he had already received several letters from them which remained unopened in a pile on his rickety desk. Ever since he had discovered the magical world it had been his refuge and his home, the place were he felt he belonged. Now for the first time in 5 years he was dreading returning to the magical world and just as always, his unhappiness could be traced back to Voldemort and Harry, just as always would have to deal with as best he could. Harry knew though, in his heart, that his usual impulsiveness would not work next time. After the Ministry Harry had a definite feeling he had run out of luck. Next time he met Voldemort, he would not be so lucky.

He rolled over uneasily. He was feeling a bit strange, like he was being stretched by some invisible force. He supposed this was because of his sudden growth spurt which was continuing even in spite of his meagre rations. He had thought that was a bit unusual because most boys he knew had shot up during third year. Harry supposed he was a late starter and looked forward to not having to look up to Ron. Actually if he continued growing at this rate, he could end up on eye level with Snape. At least that would make it harder for him to sneer down at him. Harry shuddered. He was not going to spend his summer holidays thinking about Snape. That would be _way_ more disturbing than thoughts of death and murder.

A young woman with dark auburn hair stood in the middle of Dumbledore's office. The way she stood with her arms crossed around her and her small stature made her appear as one of the students. Yet looking closely at her in the bright July sunlight it became apparent that she was not as young as she appeared. In fact she was around 30 with striking blue eyes that looked older. She waited silently, not bothering to examine the room. The next moments would determine whether she would live or die. She was tired of hiding. Tired of so many things.

She was broken from her reverie by the entrance of Professor Dumbledore. He smiled at her politely and apologised for keeping her waiting. He gestured for her to sit in the comfortable seat in front of his grand desk and she sat awkwardly, tensely as though waiting for an invisible gavel to fall in judgement.

"So Merella, I was a bit surprised to receive your application." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at her and Rella was instantly both relieved at his congeniality and worried about the meaning of his statement.

"Why? I simply applied for the Defence Against The Dark Arts position." She smoothed the dark blue fabric of her robes nervously. She had never been good at these games. She preferred a more straightforward approach to problems. Silently she questioned again her reasons for returning. Could she not have been happy away from here, away from him? Where these games were not played and she would not need to take part in them. Here she would have to watch every word she said and every thing she thought and that was if Dumbledore had not just taken one look at her and remembered her from her school days. She had not exactly been anonymous during her last months here.

"Ah. Well actually there has not been an actual application for the position for the last two years. Usually I have to approach the search for a defence teacher rather more pro-actively than I would for other subjects. But I must say I do wish you had applied under your real name. It makes the paperwork so much simpler, you see." He scrutinised her intently and she made no effort to break eye contact, having resigned herself to what he was likely doing at that very moment inside her head. He sensed her acceptance and did not try to hide his search. She guided him to what he was looking for and he viewed the memory and withdrew from her mind. She sat stiffly looking at the stone floor, tears silently making their tracks down her cheeks.

"Aurelia. I am sorry I doubted you. But I could not believe if you were truly innocent that you would return. If you are discovered, you would receive the Kiss. Why would you risk this?" He asked gently, taking in her distress.

"Why have I risked all in the past? For him. I tried Headmaster, truly I tried, for years to forget him or get over him but… I have nothing to lose. The Dark Lord has returned and I am a part of this world. I became an Auror for a reason. I would not leave it to Voldemort. I will not leave him to Voldemort. He still teaches here? How is he?"

"Severus still teaches here yes. He is not the young man you remember Aurelia. He has changed. After you left he… he has not found another. I will not tell you anything further. You can talk to him yourself when you become a teacher here."

She sighed.

"I am not the young woman he remembers either but I am grateful for the chance. I assume Professor Merella Letton will be joining the staff? It would not do, after all to have Aurelia Kelton, Mass Murderess at the staff table."

"There is another matter we must speak of. Will you tell him what you have learned? Think carefully on this Aurelia. You must realise that there is more resting on your decision than Severus's feelings towards you" Dumbledore leaned towards her intently.

Rella felt a brief flash of anger towards the almost omniscient man before her.

"So, now it is _my _decision, Headmaster? I was under the impression that it most definitely was not my decision and if I took any action there would be consequences."

She shook her head in defeat.

"I will not be telling him. I made that choice long ago. It is too late to undo it now. Your secret is safe Headmaster. When will you require my presence? I must return home and pack up my belongings"

She rose and Dumbledore got to his feet.

"The last week in August will be sufficient time for you to prepare your classes. Oh and Aurelia… it was never my secret to keep. Safe journey."

She stopped, nodded in thanks and left the office.

Dumbledore watched her leave in contemplation. Her visit had removed one of his more immediate problems and brought into focus a much older one, a problem which, if he was not very much mistaken, would cause many more. Leaving the situation between his two employees aside his thoughts returned to the Boy-Who-Lived. He had considered several options but none were really satisfactory. Dumbledore chastised himself. Why was he so afraid of telling the truth? The Truth could not be chosen. The Truth was The Truth and that could not be changed. Dumbledore sighed. It was a definite pity, that the truth in this case was so damned inconvenient. But then the truth always was. His mind told him that this matter demanded immediate action but his heart… He had seen the anger and hurt on the young boy's face when he had told him of the prophecy. His heart had cried out for Harry as he had learnt the awful truth of his destiny. Dumbledore had no inclination to deal another blow to him so soon. It could wait. He hoped.

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A/N : The next chapter will be posted when we get some reviews.(Hint, Hint ,Hint)or when we finish our exams, whichever comes first! This is our first fan fic so both I and my co-writer (and lil bro) Onuris Black thank you for your time. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- We don't own Harry Potter, We never did, butwe wish we did cos then I wouldn't have afrankly disturbing student debt. Ah well. It's fun spending it anyway!

Chapter Two - Adventures in Gardening

Harry hated gardening. He was hot, sweaty, probably smelt disgusting and he could just make out through the window Dudley sitting laughing with his friends with a glass of a coke in the living room. They had an electric fan on. Harry at this point would have given his wand arm for an electric fan and a bit of shade.

He was presently engaged in trimming the edge of the lawn where it was starting to impinge upon the neatly paved driveway. As he used his spade to viciously sever offending tufts of grass he mused on the lovely Bellatrix Lestrange. How he would love to be banging the sharp edge of the spade down on her neck right about now. Harry had decided in fourth year that Bella was worthy of going on his List. By now Harry had quite a long mental list of people he would like to see humiliated, injured, tortured, killed and otherwise inconvenienced. If it hadn't been the fact that all of the people on his list had tried to do at least one of the aforementioned things to him already Harry would have thought he was in need of anger management therapy.

As it was, courtesy of Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley (Numbers 5, 11 and 9 respectively) Harry had developed over the years, in addition to a way with a trowel, a rather interesting way of dealing with weeds. Although it was rather enjoyable when he imagined every weed he ripped out of the ground was Vernon's head, Harry had been tending to the Dursley's garden for the past 4 hours, only stopping for a glass of water, a slice of stale bread and some mouldy cheese Petunia had given him before her friend Yvonne had come round.

Yvonne had roared up the drive in her new red sports car. Recently widowed she had apparently hit the jackpot on dear Derek's life insurance and was making the most of it. She tottered past Harry dressed all in black on stiletto heels. She looked a strange shade of orange from too much fake tan and her bleached blonde hair clashed horribly with her orange skin. Yvonne's daughter, Natalie went to the Girls division of Smeltings and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Petunia and Yvonne were trying to fix Dudley and Natalie up. Harry hadn't seen her for a while but he was he was undecided whether it was Dudley or Natalie he pitied.

Harry inferred from the rather scarce lunch that after only two weeks the Dursleys were starting to get over their fear of Moody and Co. showing up on their doorstep. Perhaps he should 'miss' sending a letter to remind them why they had ignored him for so long. Harry sighed to himself. It didn't really matter he supposed. Lots of children had it worse than him. He had a roof over his head, wasn't ill or anything and was fed, more than occasionally. He could be starving or suffering from aids in Africa. He could be beaten every night or something. There was really no need to be dramatic about it.

Nevertheless, Harry felt the familiar black hole of panic open up inside him, the crushing feeling of powerlessness return. But even though he reminded himself of these realities he could not shake the despair that had clung to him since the ministry and the revelations in Dumbledore's office. Not even the symbolic beheading of Bellatrix (Number 3) could make him feel any better about Sirius. Harry now moved to his next task, removing the miniscule amounts of Moss from in between the paving stones. He moved mechanically not really seeing the moss he was pulling out. He was trapped in an ever deepening vortex of self pity and recrimination. He knew it was destructive but he was so powerless here, so removed that he had no way of dealing with his grief and fear. Harry was so wrapped up in himself that he didn't register Petunia and Yvonne coming out to admire the car. Yvonne got into the driving seat and kicked off her heels.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at one darling, we simply must try that new Italian on the London Road, I hear it's completely gorgeous." Yvonne said cheerily.

She turned the key and reversed straight towards Harry who was still wallowing and scraping the paving at the same time.

A feminine voice yelled "Look out!"

Harry looked up just in time to see the bright red sports car come towards him. He froze for a split second, then his reflexes, honed by years of Quidditch took over and he rolled neatly out of the way, narrowly avoiding squashing the lavender bush next to the herbaceous border. Yvonne carried on regardless and waved to Petunia as she sped down the street, going at least twice the speed limit for the residential area.

Petunia looked at him at first with a bit of concern and then furiously once he got to his feet.

"Pay attention boy. If you had dented that car, who do you think would pay for it? Hmph. Ungrateful ruffian." She retreated into the house still mumbling about Harry latest bout of delinquent behaviour.

Harry dropped heavily to the ground. He lay back and stared up at the cloudless sky. A jumbo jet left a white trail through the flawless sky, probably carrying holidaymakers to some exotic destination. That car could have killed him. Harry mused calmly. If it hadn't been for that shout, it would have squashed him flat.

Wait a minute!

Harry sat up and looked around wildly. The shouter had been a woman, but it hadn't been Petunia or Yvonne. It must have been his order babysitter, but he hadn't recognised the voice. Maybe the order was acquiring new members. Harry hoped so. He could use all the help he could get. It was a bit embarrassing though, thinking some random person he had never met had heard how his aunt treated him but in a strange way it was better than thinking someone like Mrs. Weasley had seen the little display of affection. Actually, reflected Harry, Petunia had been quite mild. She must have been more shocked than she let on.

Harry supposed nearly seeing your nephew squashed by a £50,000 sports car would give one a bit of a shock, even if you weren't particularly fond of said nephew. Merlin's Balls, Harry suddenly though, I was nearly squashed by a £50,000 red sports car. Harry started to laugh. Voldemort had tried loads of times but it was Petunia's mate Yvonne who came closest to offing him.

His laughter died down and he was struck by a sudden epiphany. Sure, the prophecy said that they had to kill each other but people died every day. He looked up at the sky where the planes trail had all but faded. Those people, so happy to be going on their holiday could die. Planes crashed sometimes but people still flew. Yvonne, so proud in her little red sports car could die too. Thousands of people die on Britain's roads every year, a good proportion of them children. Harry had a different threat hanging over him but that didn't mean he should stop living, Yvonne didn't. Those people on the aeroplane didn't, why should he? He should stop feeling sorry for himself, stop dwelling on past mistakes and get over it. All he could do was his best. He had to stop thinking other people would sort out his problems. Dumbledore was only human and Harry was responsible for himself.

So, what could be his first step? Well reflected Harry, at the moment I'm stuck here not learning anything useful (and probably forgetting all I learnt this year). So, in order to stop being such a prat he needed to….go to Diagon Alley. That's it! If he could go to Diagon Alley he could get books that could teach him new spells and curses to use to protect himself and his friends. Harry was suddenly grim. He needed to find a book on Occlumency, this time he was going to learn to clear his mind, he was going to practice every hour of every day and he was going to succeed.

In memory of Sirius, no one else was going to die through his lack of effort.

Also practically speaking he needed to get gold out and get some new clothes. Dudley was now shorter than him, he was now about Ron's height and there was no way Harry was going to walk round Hogwarts in trousers that were halfway up his leg.

Now all Harry needed was to lose his order guard, find a way to disguise himself slightly from the general population and get to London. It would require careful planning, a skill Harry hadn't particularly developed up until now, but, he told himself grimly, if he wanted to stop getting people killed he had better develop it fast.

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Rella sighed in relief as Harry got up and started work on the driveway again. The boy had nearly given her a heart attack when he had nearly got run over by his aunt's friend, the thin woman with no dress sense. She had been unable to stop herself from yelling and it seemed as if it was probably just as well.

What she had seen had concerned her greatly. The boy had worked hard all day but there had been a vacant quality, a numbness to him which disturbed her. She had though maybe it was just the manual quality of the work he was doing, but even when he was nearly hit by the car, the impression seemed to remain. It was only when he started laughing that he had seemed to be fully aware of his surroundings.

Rella chuckled to herself as Harry went inside and she turned on her surveillance spell of the house on to her compact mirror. Her first time guarding the Boy-Who-Lived and he had almost got killed by a muggle. That would have been a bit sticky to explain to Dumbledore she reflected.

She was not greatly impressed by the behaviour of Harry's muggle family though. The protection of the wards had to be amazingly strong to justify Harry's presence with this particular group of people. They didn't seem to like him and she found herself wondering about his childhood. Had he been loved, cared for and cherished like a child should be? Somehow on the strength of this display she doubted it. How different would Harry be if he had a happier childhood, with another part of his family? She swallowed. If she had chosen a different path, would he have had a happier life?

She shook her head. There was no point dwelling on it. The way her life and Harry's life had played out could not be changed. But still Rella felt a deep guilt which prompted her to vow to herself as Harry wearily disappeared into the Bathroom that if she could help him, or make him happy she would, as she had not done 15 years ago. After all, Harry was a major part of why she was here, wasn't he?

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The other reason why she was here stood silently watching her, arms folded. He wore Sunglasses which had on them a tricky little spell which allowed the object to be a window through invisibility cloaks. He watched her chuckle as she looked into a compact mirror, most likely one holding a surveillance spell on Potter. She had changed so much, had matured and had only increased in beauty, but she seemed more tired than she remembered her. He remembered her energy, her beauty and straightforward manner he found so irresistible. They had been so different and yet had connected so thoroughly, after they had seen through the petty clashes that her determination and his manner had caused. He had loved her, probably the only person he had loved in his life and she had betrayed him.

And now she was back, she was going to work at Hogwarts and she hadn't even come to see him to explain. Dumbledore had told him as gently as he could and Severus had pretended that he didn't care. But Severus always tried to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't be honest with everyone else. He cared and she had hurt him awfully. But Severus was mystified at the same time.

Why had she returned? Here she was at risk of arrest and death; she had no family, no links with this country except him. She had no reason to return. There was the Curse of course; Severus didn't believe for one moment that she had told him everything about it. But because of the hybrid nature of the curse its effects were difficult to predict anyway. Could that be what was compelling Rella to return, or was it something else? For some reason it was deathly important to him to find out. Severus smirked. If there was one thing Severus was good at it was ferreting truths from people who didn't want to give them.

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A/N. So...Ive updated.Lost the plot for a bit after HBP (literally, sadly)but hey! I've found it again!(Note to self...never put plot outlineof first 8 chapters onone piece of paper and then lose it) HBP was so different to whatI imagined, fair play to JKR, I got majorly befuddled to whereI was going. But I couldnt abandon it completely and Easter break meant back to my home town where...wellI might as well admit it, there's nothing but sheep!I'll try to updatefaster than in 8 months time, promise! 


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